


Renegade

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Clark has issues, Crack Treated Seriously, Friendship, Gang Violence, Gen, Inspired By Person of interest, Kidnapping, References to Drugs, The friends who steal babies together stay together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:53:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: In which Clark accidentally steals a baby.





	Renegade

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of two. Thanks to VaticanSaint and batwayneman for letting me spam you with random dialogue. <3

"I panicked."

"Clark."

"I didn't do it on  _purpose_!"

" _Clark_."

Clark hefted the baby in his arms, clearly anxious. There was a washcloth thrown haphazardly over one shoulder, covered in spit.

"Come in before someone hears you yelling," the reporter said, gesturing at him. " _Hurry_."

Bruce stepped into the apartment, scanning the room quickly. On the table were three dozen cans of baby food and a solitary bag of 6-month+ diapers. There was a pink blanket on the couch, carefully folded.

"Well? Are you going to say something?"

Bruce turned back towards the other man. The baby in question was talking nonsense into the collar of Clark's shirt, babbling happily.

She burrowed her head against his shoulder, cackling when the static from her hair shocked them both. A chubby hand reached for Clark's head, aiming for one of the lower curls.

Clark pushed her hand away without looking, an unimpressed look briefly crossing his face. She whined, hitting his chest with a weak fist. The reporter ignored her.

 _He's done that more than once,_  Bruce guessed, hiding a smile as the baby went for a different curl. "Explain."

"Everything happened really fast, okay?" Clark said, growing defensive immediately. "She was in danger. I had to get her out of there."

"O…kay." Bruce said, painfully slow. "She was in danger. You had to get her out of there."

" _Exactly_!"

The billionaire hesitated, choosing his words carefully. A panicked Clark wasn't in anyone's best interests. A panicked Clark holding a baby was even worse.

"You do realize there's an amber alert out for a tall white male in glasses, right?"

"Oh sweet Christmas," Clark moaned, turning towards the door. The baby squealed in his arms. "I didn't  _kidnap_ her!"

"You strategically removed her from the crime scene," Bruce quipped as Clark wrung his free hand, "Happens to the best of us."

" _Bruce!"_

The baby whimpered at the raised voice, turning into Clark's chest with a scrunched-up face.

Bruce sighed, reaching his hands out.

"Give her to me."

The relief in Clark's eyes was palpable as he passed over the baby. Bruce gathered her in his arms, coming face to face with a pair of watery blue eyes.

"She have a name?"

"Abigail," Clark said, walking over to the kitchen table, now perfectly free to wring both of his hands. "That's what the blanket said, at least. Oh Jesus, she's crying again."

Bruce looked down. The baby sniffled in his arms, staring at him in confusion. He could tell she was gearing up for another bout of crying, which needed to be defused….promptly.

"Hi Abigail," he said, lifting her until they were at face level. "I'm going to need you to stop doing that. You're scaring my friend."

"Bruce, for Christ's sake, she's a  _baby--_ "

Abigail sniffled one last time, her face relaxing slowly. She gave him a gummy smile, tears disappearing.

Bruce grabbed at her nose, flicking it with a grin. A delighted shriek nearly had her tipping out of his hands. He juggled her, playing along as Clark looked on in disbelief at the sudden change in events.

" _How_ ," the reporter said, dumbstruck, " _how_ do you manage to--every time I--I've been rocking her for  _twenty minutes,_ Bruce!"

"People like you are the reason we have shaken baby campaigns," he said under his breath, well-aware the other man could hear him. "Don't we, Abigail?"

A siren wailed to life outside. Clark jumped, his knee hitting the stove with a painful  _crack_. Bruce smirked, shifting Abigail away from his cufflinks before she could make a grab for the sterling silver.

"Calm down--"

"I'm going to  _jail_ ," Clark said, putting his head in his hands, "Why am I so fucking  _stupid_?"

"You're not going to jail," Bruce said, rolling his eyes. "But I'm not going to argue with you about the second part."

" _Bruce_. Not  _helping_."

The billionaire smirked, burying his face behind Abigail's head before the other man could see. She cooed, pawing at his lapel.

"Walk me through it, then. What happened?"

Clark pulled out his lone kitchen chair, sitting abruptly. "I heard a cry," he started, looking at the ground. "Crack house on the north side of Gotham. Gunshots. When I showed up, she was all alone. There were people outside with guns."

"And then?"

The other man grimaced. "They were talking about finishing her off--some sort of drug trafficking gone wrong with her parents, I guess."

Bruce nodded. Abigail squirmed in his arms, eyeing Clark--obviously jonesing for another hair-pulling attempt. He edged towards the other man, slowly bringing her back into curl-grabbing range.

"So?"

"So, I wasn't wearing the suit. I grabbed her and ran. We've been here ever since." He jumped as another siren passed by the window, face pinched. " _Jesus_ , are they calling in everyone on this side of the country?"

"Probably," Bruce said, glancing out the window. "So who called in the amber alert? You said the parents were gone."

"I don't  _know_ ," the reporter said. "That place was a shit hole, Bruce, you should have seen where they were keeping her. I cleaned her up and grabbed some food but I think I moved too quickly. And then she wouldn't stop crying so I called you…"

Another half-step, and Abigail was inches away from the other man's hair. Bruce stayed silent, letting Clark have his third freak-out of the last twenty minutes.

"Why didn't you hand her over to Gotham PD?"

Clark snorted, letting his head hit the table. A can of sour peaches fell over, rolling towards the edge. "That's a dumb question, and you know it."

"Metropolis PD, then?" Bruce grabbed the can with one hand, placing it back on the table. "They're trustworthy."

"That would still involve traveling over state lines."

"So, you figured,  _hey,_ if I'm gonna commit a felony, I might as well do it all the way?"

"You're making fun of me, and I  _really_ do not appreciate it."

Abigail finally landed her hand on a stray curl, yanking  _hard._ Clark let out a shout, his head flying up.

Bruce carefully swept the baby out of the way, grinning as the Kryptonian swore under his breath.

"I'm deadly serious," he told the flustered reporter, Abigail giggling in his arms. "Let's talk game plans."

"Obviously we have to give her  _back_ ," Clark said, waving in Abigail's direction. "We--"

"There's no  _we_ ," Bruce interrupted, "I had nothing to do with this, remember?"

"Well, you're aiding and abetting now!"

"Only because you cried on the phone."

"I wasn't  _crying_!"

Abigail squealed, wriggling in Bruce's grip. The two men stared at each other across the table, silent.

"Look," Clark said, setting a hand on the table, "I just need to get her somewhere safe. I don't trust whatever's going on with her parents. Something's not right."

"So hand her over to the police, and we're done," Bruce put a hand on Clark's shoulder, squeezing briefly. "It's going to be okay. You made the right call."

Clark's eyes found his. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. His head tilted, like it did when he was listening to something far away.

"The cops called the amber alert," the reporter said, visibly shaken. "The parents owed them money. Something about the drugs. They want her back as a bargaining piece."

Bruce nodded, sitting down on Clark's couch. Abigail grabbed for his tie, and he let her, still processing.

"GCPD is dirty," he said, matter-of-fact, "What else is new?"

"That means we can't go to the police, Bruce! They're the ones trying to kill her! They're looking for her right now!"

His voice grew loud again, edged with panic. Abigail whined unhappily, tugging on Bruce's tie. He lifted her to his shoulder, standing from the couch.

"Calm down," Bruce said, voice firm, "I have someone we can go to. And for Christ's sake, stop making that face."

"What face?"

" _That_ one!"

* * *

"Witness protection," Jim Gordon said in disbelief, " _That's_ why you dragged me out of bed at two in the damn morning?"

Bruce shifted, willing to acknowledge the point.

"It's a...unique case."

"Then call the FBI!"

"Not possible," he said, "We have reason to believe corruption is at play. We don't know how far up it goes."

"It's _Gotham_." Gordon snorted, crossing his arms. Beside his elbow, a mug of coffee was cooling quickly. "It goes as far up as it can. Also- _we_? Since when are you working cases with someone else?"

Bruce exhaled, glancing towards the adjacent building. This could go very wrong. Very, very wrong.

_Well, it's now or never._

"..Kal?"

Clark drifted out of the shadows after a moment of hesitation, cape flowing behind him. Abigail was pressed to his chest, a blanket wrapped around her legs. They landed next to Bruce, silent.

"That's a baby," Jim pointed out, after a moment.

"I'm aware," Bruce said, "Can you help us, or not?"

Gordon stepped forward, getting a closer look at Abigail. He squinted. "Is that the missing kid from the north side?"

"...Possibly."

"And you just happen to have her," the sergeant shook his head, frowning. "The amber alert said they were looking for a tall man with dark hair…"

They both looked away as he trailed off. The rooftop went silent, save for Abigail's quiet babbling. Gordon's eyes could have burned holes into Clark's chest.

"You kidnapped a child," he said, voice dangerously low. Clark flinched. "A _child_?!"

"She was in danger!"

"Superman is my amber alert. Are you _kidding_ me?" Gordon turned to Bruce, furious. "You let him do this?"

"Hey." Clark said.

"I didn't _let_ him do anything," Bruce said, sending the reporter a look over his shoulder. "We have reason to believe GCPD is involved in a kidnapping plot. Her parents were pushing heroin over on the north side."

"The bust on 27th," Gordon said, eyeing Abigail. There was a disbelieving look on his face. "You're saying she's connected?"

"Yes."

"Jesus," Gordon put a hand to his head, leaning back against the brick, "And I thought a missing kid was bad."

Bruce shrugged. "Kids go missing in Gotham every day."

There was an awkward pause. Clark and Gordon stared at him, concerned.

"...Right." the sergeant said, breaking the silence. He looked back to Abigail, clearly anxious to get her away from them. "Can I, uh, hold her?"

Clark immediately held the baby out. Jim took Abigail carefully, supporting her neck. He tucked her under his coat, frowning.

"Well, what's the plan?"

"We go after the cops," Bruce said, glancing back at Clark for an affirmative. "Once they're out, things should be safe. You can put her in protective custody, get her adopted--"

"Wait," Jim interrupted, waving his free hand. "I can't watch her! Are you insane?"

"Did you want us to take her on the manhunt?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

Bruce rolled his eyes, grateful for the lenses in the cowl. "We'll be back soon. Don't talk to anyone. Don't go anywhere."

Gordon scowled, pressing Abigail closer to his chest. Clark ducked his head as the sergeant's glare was directed his way, clearing his throat.

"Thank you, Gordon."

Jim ignored him. Inside his coat, Abigail had his badge in hand, tugging on it. Frustrated with his lack of reaction, she aimed a fist for his moustache. Gordon ignored her, turning to Bruce.

"Make this _quick_."

* * *

They ducked into an alley, recouping in the shadows. Clark sat on one of the dumpsters, face twisted in regret.

Bruce let him have his pity party for a moment, checking one of the scanners on his wrist.

"Do you think she's going to be safe?"

"I trust Gordon," Bruce grunted, tapping at one of the reports, "She'll be fine."

"She's in a building full of potential threats," Clark said, "How the hell is that safe?"

"Safer than with us," Bruce pointed out, "They're still looking for a tall man with dark hair. Not Jim."

Clark kicked at the dumpster, clearly frustrated. "Why does everyone in Gotham have to be so _corrupt_?"

"It's part of our charm," Bruce turned back to the other man. "Come on. I have a hit on their location."

" _Finally_."

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Leave me a comment, and let me know what you thought! I should have chapter two up soon!


End file.
